


Russian Interrogation

by kyridwen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 11:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11401662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyridwen/pseuds/kyridwen
Summary: Draco is captured by enemy agent Hermione Granger, who uses her communist training and feminine wiles to interrogate him. PWP.





	Russian Interrogation

The story was still playing out on the Muggle teevee behind them, but Draco’s attention was now completely focussed on the smirking witch in front of him.

“Vhat do you zink you are looking at, Secret Agent?” she sneered as she walked towards him.

“Uh,” he paused, his eyes flicking back to the teevee. One of the characters in the story they had just been watching sounded like that, although the accent did also remind him a little of Viktor Krum.

“Don’t look over zere for help, Agent Malfoy,” Hermione said, “nothing vill save you now!”

She was standing right in front of him, just a little too far into his personal space for comfort, and grinning up at him in a way which made him feel entirely _un_ comfortable. He frowned, confused at the game she was playing. Was this a Muggle thing? He wasn’t sure what she wanted from him.

“I’m not...” he began, but she shushed him with a finger gently pressed against his lips.

“I know, you are not villing to tell me yet. But ve have vays of making you talk, Secret Agent!” She threw her head back and let loose a maniacal laugh which Voldemort himself would have been proud of. If he hadn’t been dead for two years already.

Draco was starting to worry that his girlfriend had completely lost her wits. Something in that Muggle moovee must have damaged her somehow! He’d _known_ it was a bad idea to try watching one, but she’d refused to take no for answer.

Before he could gently suggest that perhaps they might like to pay a quick visit to St Mungo’s, Hermione roughly grabbed a handful of material in the front of his button-down shirt and started dragging him across the room. He’d been about to protest - the shirt was one of his nicer ones, and she’d been the one to request he wear it for their “moovee night” – but then he realised that she was heading for the hallway that led to their bedroom. Perhaps he’d just wait to see what the witch had in mind. After all, he wouldn’t want to make a fool of himself if this was a normal Muggle thing.

Once Hermione reached the bedroom she pushed him in front of her, and then advanced on him in a menacing manner. Draco hadn’t even realised he was backing away until his retreat was ended by a collision with the far wall.

“So Agent Malfoy, are you feeling any more co-operative, now zat I have you at my mercy?” Hermione purred as she ran her hands down his chest, smoothing out his shirt, and finally curling her fingers around his sides to grip his hips.

Draco chuckled to himself as he smiled down at her. “No offence, Granger, but I’m pretty sure I’m stronger than you. And I think you left your wand in the living room.”

“Vand, schmand,” Hermione waved a hand dismissively. “Vhat you fail to realise is zat I have a far better vay of gaining your co-operation. You see...” she paused dramatically, “ve have captured your partner, Agent Pookie!”

Draco’s smile faded as he looked towards his bedside table and noticed that Pookie was indeed missing. Hermione had bought him the teddy bear for their one year anniversary, and he’d sooner take a hex than let anyone else know how much he cared for the little stuffed toy. She knew though. Hermione had always been able to see straight through him.

“Alright, I give up. Where’s Pookie?” he asked.

“Agent Pookie is, how you say, collateral,” she told him. “You behave, and he vill be released, no harm done. But if you don’t...” she trailed off, the threat left unspoken.

“Okay, okay!” Draco said hurriedly, raising his hands in defeat. “So what do you want?”

“Aha! Ze part vhere I tell you about glorious Communist plans for world domination!” Hermione turned abruptly on her heel and strode into the center of the room.

“Wait, what’s a Communist?” Draco asked, pushing off the wall and following her.

She turned to face him, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, you’re such a... a Pureblood sometimes!” - the Russian accent forgotten for a moment. “Look, I’ll explain later, okay? But for now,” the accent returned, “I did not say you could move! You vant to know vhy you are here? I vill tell you.”

Draco smirked at her lapse into her normal voice as he backed up to the wall once more. _That_ was the Hermione he knew and loved. Whatever she was up to at the moment, he decided to just go along with.

“You are here to tell me the secrets of your Capitalist pig-dog government! Ve have known for a vhile now zat one of your spies has infiltrated our ranks. You vill tell me ze name of your agent who has managed to penetrate deep into our special areas!”

Draco licked his lips thoughtfully, while wondering if Hermione was aware of just how her last sentence had sounded. “So if I tell you the name of this agent, then you’ll let Pookie go?”

“Zat is correct.”

“Okay, the agent’s name is...” he wracked his brains for a name that sounded like it would fit, “Agent Krum!”

“Do you mean Specialist _Viktor_ Krum?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s your man. So now, about Pookie?”

“Insolent pig-dog swine!” Hermione shouted, and actually shoved Draco back into the wall. Hard. “I know your tricks, English, money-loving scum! Do you not imagine I am aware of your training? Never vould you give up ze name of your agent so quickly!”

“Oh. Right,” Draco tried to imagine where this was going, so that he could get there one step ahead of Hermione. “What I meant was, I’ll never tell you, you evil Communist woman!”

“Better,” Hermione gave a genuine grin, and winked at him. “At least you do not try to insult my intelligence any longer. But as I said before, ve have vays of making you talk!”

She grabbed hold of his hips again, and this time pressed her body up against his. Draco felt a spark of arousal rush straight to his groin, and he reached out to touch her arms, wanting to feel her skin beneath his.

“Ah-ah!” Hermione warned, and leaned back to look him in the eye. Since she didn’t step back, this just served to make her hips press more firmly against his, and Draco felt a surge of blood rush right to the same place as that earlier spark. Hermione moved her hands to his forearms, and gently but insistently guided his hands behind his back. “Don’t move zem.”

She brought her hands back to his hips, and Draco was left leaning back against the wall on his shoulders and palms, elbows slightly bent and his bottom resting against his wrists. The position pushed his hips forward, and Draco suddenly felt quite vulnerable. All of his torso, from chest to thigh, was quite open to anything Hermione might choose to do to it, and he had no idea what to expect from her next.

His worry was evidently written on his face, as Hermione smiled gently at him and said, “Don’t look so nervous, Agent Malfoy, anyone vould zink you have never been in zis position before! Besides,” she rolled her hips against his, “something tells me you’re not as scared as you vould have me believe.”

Draco’s cock was definitely hard now, and he felt it twitch in his boxers as Hermione rubbed herself against him. He wanted to feel more of her, and almost reached out to touch her again before he remembered that he was not supposed to move his hands.

Hermione slid her hands up from his hips, running them underneath his shirt, and trailing her fingertips teasingly over his sides. Draco squirmed beneath her, trying to escape the tickling sensations, but quickly realising this meant he was grinding his hips against hers. Again he nearly moved his hands, although he wasn’t sure if he’d been about to push her away or pull her closer. Before he could consciously choose to do either, he remembered her order and growled under his breath in frustration as he forced himself to stay still.

The evil Communist woman in front of him giggled like a mischievous imp, then ran her hands further up his chest and pinched both his nipples.

“Fuck!” Draco exclaimed involuntarily, and caught up Hermione’s hands in his before he realised what he was doing. “Uh, sorry?” He grinned down at her sheepishly, as she pouted and looked pointedly at his hands.

“Perhaps you do not care vhat happens to Agent Pookie?” she suggested.

“No, I do,” he protested, releasing her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. That just hurt though!” His chest still felt sore now. She’d not been gentle, and his nipples were both hard and throbbing. A bit like his cock, he realised shamefacedly. It hadn’t been at all put off by the sharp bursts of pain. If anything it was paying even more attention now, trying to find a way out through his boxers.

“Ve shall find a different vay of doing zis,” Hermione said. “Stay vhere you are.”

She went to the doorway and Draco watched her retreat down the hall. He took the opportunity to shove his hand down his trousers and quickly rearrange his cock so that it wasn’t straining against his underwear any more. He’d only just got things settled comfortably when Hermione returned, wand in hand.

“Turn around,” she ordered, pointing the wand directly at him, “and put your hands behind your back again.”

Draco swallowed a ball of nerves in his throat, and slowly did as directed. Going along with what Hermione had commanded was one thing, but if she did what he was anticipating then he really would be putting himself at her mercy. Facing the wall, brought his hands together in the small of his back. He couldn’t see Hermione’s wand movement, but he had no trouble hearing her cast the jinx; “Incarcerous!”

He tensed when he heard the spell leave her mouth, and then jumped when he felt the conjured ropes wrapping themselves around his wrists. He tested the strength of the bonds, and found that although they weren’t tight enough to hurt him, there was no way he would be able to wriggle out of them. He felt his breathing speed up as he acknowledged how helpless he now was.

“Face me again,” Hermione said.

Draco took a deep breath to calm the churning in his stomach, and turned back around. He made eye contact with Hermione, who was looking very pleased with her handiwork, and then for some unfathomable reason he felt a wave of shyness wash over him and he dropped his gaze to the floor.

Hermione leaned over to place her wand on the nearby chest of drawers, before walking slowly up to him, ducking her head to try and recapture his gaze. Draco felt himself blushing, and met her eyes with an awkward grin.

“You good?” she asked, with no trace of the Russian accent.

“Yeah,” Draco replied, “just feeling a little self-conscious here.” He nodded down towards the bulge in the front of his trousers before shrugging his shoulders. It felt a bit weird to have such an obvious hard-on while he was tied up, but he didn’t think Hermione would hold it against him. _Heh_ , he thought to himself, he knew what he _would_ like her to hold against him. His cock twitched noticeably in his jeans.

“Ah, Agent Malfoy,” the accent was back, “it seems to me you are not entirely unhappy with ze situation,” Hermione said. She placed her left hand on his chest and slowly pushed until he backed up against the wall once again. Then she pushed a little harder, pinning him in place. “You are now entirely at my mercy, yes?”

Somehow her words seemed to go straight to Draco’s groin, and he had to draw a shaky breath before answering her. “Yes.”

“Say it,” she purred at him.

“I...” he began breathlessly, “I’m at your mercy.” It felt like fireworks going off in his stomach.

“Very good.” She moved her hand from his chest up to his face, and patted his cheek gently. “You are indeed.” Her left hand moved down to hold his jaw, while her right cupped his cock through his trousers and then began to tease him.

“Unh,” he moaned, and bucked his hips against her hand. He tried to look down and see what she was doing to him, but she tightened her grip on his jaw and held his head in place. She wasn’t even making eye contact with him any more, just concentrating on teasing him instead, and he would have complained at the unfairness of it if it hadn’t felt so damn good.

He couldn’t even tell what she was doing exactly, but it was driving him crazy! There was no real tactile sensation, just a continous teasing pressure through the denim stretched over his cock. He imagined she was alternating between stroking him through the fabric and simply pressing down to rub small circles here and there and, oh Merlin yes, _there_!

Then, abruptly, the delicious feelings were gone, and he had to choke back a whine of disappointment. He had let his eyes fall shut while Hermione had been playing with him, the better to concentrate on the sensations she was inflicting on him, but now he opened them again to find her looking directly at him, hands on hips and a pleased smile on her face.

“You see, Agent Malfoy? I am not monster. You co-operate vith me, and things do not go so bad for you. You understand?”

“Yes!” Yes, he understood, _just please go back to what you were doing_ , he thought wildly.

“Just bear in mind; you are now prisoner of glorious totalitarian regime. And beloved dictator has given me complete authority to deal with materialistic, possession-owning filth such as yourself. I can do anything I vant vith you. _Anything._ ” She stared into his eyes as though making sure she could see the message sinking in. “Say it.”

“Mm,” Draco groaned in agreement, “you can do anything you want with me. Just please, go back to what you were doing?”

“Men,” Hermione sighed, “so simple to control.” She moved her hand back to his crotch, palming him through his jeans. “More of zis, you vant?” She wrapped her fingers as best she could around his cock and gave it a firm squeeze.

“Merlin, yes,” Draco agreed, thrusting against her hand.

“Zen stay put,” Hermione said, letting go of him.

Draco watched her cross the room to one of their wardrobes, and start rummaging inside. He took the opportunity while her back was turned to look down at himself; cock achingly hard and tenting his jeans, shirt creased and hitched up at the waist, crotch wantonly thrust forward. He felt the blood which had been very definitely concentrated at his groin start to rise upwards, in a hot blush which crept over his chest and cheeks.

He’d been enjoying himself – there was no way he could argue that – but he was not used to seeing himself in such a state of disarray, or so out of control. Now that he had a moment to think about the situation he was in, his self-consciousness returned full force. He stood upright and tried straightening his shirt out with his hands. Since they were still bound together behind his back this proved quite an awkward manoeuvre, and when Hermione emerged from the depths of the wardrobe she caught him trying to reach both arms around his right hip to smooth out a stubborn shirt corner. Her chuckle let him know that she was watching again, and he unfolded himself sheepishly.

She padded back across the room to him, keeping one hand behind her back. “Such vanity, ze Englishman,” she announced, standing in front of him. “You spend entirely too much time vorrying about how you look. So I, Communist Agent vith superior intellect, vill be kind enough to help you forget yourself.” She brought her hand around and dangled one of her black silk scarves in front of his face.

**Author's Note:**

> to be continued...


End file.
